Red Snow
by Steph-Schell
Summary: Gifting giving, Mentalist style. Set in my Red High school 'verse. Read author's note at some point.


**A/N: **It's been awhile since I've been around hasn't it? :Throws herself at reveiwers'/fans' feet and begs forgiveness: I don't know if anyone here knows the fandom but there is a scifi show called Sanctuary out there and it has taken over my life. I'm not kidding you people, I was literally writing fanfiction for it in my sleep. I think Maggie ( the plot nubbin/bunny for Sanctuary) hid Paja (Mentalist plotbunny) for a while there. I mean I had the DVDs and even hours of watching could not inspire me to fic.

But just recently I was on youtube and I watched a video for Mentalist called Men Buy the Drinks, Girls Call the Shots. (go watch it, it's awesome). And who should poke their head around my computer screen but Paja! I tried to tel him off but you can't look at those bunny eyes and be mad. He has also met with Francis, my fluff bunny and they seem to be good friends. 

**BUT: **I have a multi chapter story still going on in the Sanctuary universe that I need to finish out. So here's what will happen. I will finish out the last three or so chapters for that fic and then, excepting one shots and drabbles, devote myself once more solely to The Mentalist. Until then, here's a ansty/fluffy Christmas thing that I managed to squeeze out of Paja. It's set in the Red Highschool universe around Christmas time. (Clearly)

This was longer than I thought. I apologize for the ramblign.

* * *

Teresa woke up to a steady tapping on her window. She was going to write it off as a tree branch except there were no trees near that window. With a groan she rolled over to bury her head in her pillow. The tapping continued. Clearly it was not going to disappear just because she kept wishing it would. She sat up in bed and looked to the window. She wished she could say she was surprised to see Patrick there grinning at her. Teresa sighed as she threw the blankets off and went to open the window. "It's eleven at night," she pointed out. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," Patrick shrugged.

"You saw me not three hours ago," she pointed out. "You can't have missed me that much."

"And if I did?" he smiled.

"You are more insane than I had realized," she told him.

"I need to come in, just for a bit," he told her. "I've got something for you."

"You can't alright," she hissed. "Not tonight. Come back at a more reasonable hour, okay?"

Patrick opened his mouth but at that moment Teresa turned her head to look behind her. That movement pushed her hair back just enough for him to see her cheek. And the purple bruise that was on it. "Teris," he called softly, "Why is there a bruise on your cheek?"

Teresa stared at him. "There's no bruise," she objected.

Patrick reached out and pushed her hair back behind her ear. "I can clearly see a bruise on your cheek," he stated. "Did your father give that to you?"

"It's nothing," she said shrugging him off. "Dad got into one of his binges. I'm the only one here so I got it full blast. It's just a bruise on my cheek."

"Except for the fact that it's sixty degrees out and you're wearing long sleeved flannel PJs," Patrick pointed out. "Care to explain that?"

"I got cold," Teresa shrugged.

"Bull," he said. He reached for her arm and pushed up the sleeve. There was a line of bruises running up her arm. "How drunk is he?" Patrick demanded.

Teresa ripped her arm away from him which caused him to tumble inside. "Will you please stay out of my personal business?" she snapped. Patrick didn't get a chance to answer her because his fall had apparently woken her father. She could hear him roaring down stairs and cast a frightened look at Patrick.

"Come on, you need to get to my house," he told her. He grabbed her arm and began tugging her towards the window.

"Are you crazy? That won't help," she whispered. She bit her lip to hold in a whimper as he came up the stairs yelling his threats.

"Where are your brothers?" Patrick asked. "Are they here?"

"No."

"Good that's all I need." Teresa let out a squeak as he lifted her bridal style into his arms. Two long strides had them at the window where Patrick deposited her on the ladder. "Climb down," he ordered.

"What the hell?"

The crashing of the elder Lisbon was getting louder now. "Climb down," Patrick insisted. "And hurry."

Teresa would have argued but she didn't want Patrick to deal with her father's anger. She scrambled down the ladder with Patrick hot on her heels. As she touched down, she looked up to see her father leaning out the window to yell at them. Patrick jumped the last few rungs. He grabbed her hand and they ran for his door. He tried the knob but they were both so nervous they couldn't get it properly. Finally a tug on the other side let them in. "What in the hell?" Mr. Jane asked.

Patrick pulled Teresa inside. "Look what he did to her," he snapped, shoving up Teresa's sleeve. She wrenched her arm away from him.

Connor studied the girl in front of him. "Did your father do that to you?" he asked her.

Teresa knew it was no good lying. "Yes, sir he did." She didn't like the solemn look Patrick's dad had. "It's just a binge; he's not going to hurt anyone. He'll just sleep it off, I swear."

"Are your brothers in the house?" he wondered.

"No sir I'm alone."

"Well if he's going to sleep it off, he'll do it alone," Connor stated. "Patrick, take Teresa here up to your room. I'll deal with Mr. Lisbon." He moved into the back room and came back with a shot gun.

"Wait what the hell is that?" Teresa demanded. "You're gonna shoot my dad?"

"I am not shooting anyone," Connor soothed. "This is simply to scare him off. Now Patrick I thought I told you to take the lady upstairs." His sentence was punctuated by banging on the door.

Patrick scooped Teresa into his arms again and practically ran up the steps. He dropped her on his bed then went to lock the door. "What do you think is going on?" Teresa asked.

Patrick pressed a kiss to her hair. "Don't worry Teris, he won't hurt you any more," he promised. The look in her eyes told him she didn't believe that for one second. Neither did he when it came to it. After all, the man was her father. But for tonight at least he could keep her safe. They heard Connor open the door and Teris threw herself into his arms.

Downstairs Connor was dealing with Mr. Lisbon. "Looks like you've had a bit too much to drink this night, Jonathon," he stated.

"I want my daughter back," the man growled.

"I think it's best if you just go on home and let her sleep here tonight," Connor told him.

"Your boy kidnapped my little girl," Jonathon insisted. "I want her back."

"Well in that case we call the police down here and have them sort it out," Connor said. "Of course I'd have to show them the bruises on your daughter's arms. I don't think that would look too good for you." Jonathon frowned at him. Connor readied his shot gun and leveled it at the man's chest. "This is your last chance," he stated. "Your girl sleeps here tonight. I'll make sure Patrick walks her back tomorrow night."

The other man glared for a moment before recognizing defeat. "Fine," he agreed. "But you make sure that girl gets back to me."

"Alright," Connor agreed calmly. "Now why don't you head on back?"

Jonathon continued to frown but stormed out. Connor let out a breath as the door banged shut. He unloaded the shot gun and put it away before going up to check on the kids. They were both huddled on the bed, Teresa in Patrick's arms. "It's alright," he said before they could open their mouths. "He's gone. I told him that Patrick would you back tomorrow night."

Teresa huddled a little closer to Patrick. "Could I sleep in here?" she asked him quietly. She didn't even stop to think about how that must have sounded to her boyfriend's dad. She just really didn't want to be alone tonight in a strange place. Not that Patrick's room was strange but it wasn't hers and didn't' have her comfort objects for when things like this happened.

"Of course you can," Patrick responded, also with out thinking. He just wanted some way to keep that horribly vulnerable expression off Teresa's face. If that meant her sleeping in his bed then so be it.

Connor sighed. There was no tearing these two apart now. "I better not hear any strange noises," he warned them. Patrick nodded but Teresa didn't even look up. Connor watched them for a moment before heading out.

Patrick gently helped Teresa into the bed. "I can go downstairs," he offered.

Teresa shook her head violently. "Can you curl up with me?" she asked. She ducked her head in embarrassment. "I usually sleep with one of my stuffed toys after these episodes."

Patrick curled around her. It was a tight fit with both of them in the single bed but neither one minded. "Are you bruised on your ribs?" he wondered. Teresa shook her head. Patrick looped an arm around her waist. He felt her shudder, then shake and then finally sob. "It's alright Teris," he whispered. "You're safe now." She continued to sob. Patrick knew that the normal words wouldn't do anything. Instead he began to whisper her tales about his life before he came to California. It was a long time before either of them slept.

In the morning Patrick was surprised to not feel the least bit squashed. He opened his eyes to bright sunlight and an empty bed. He felt a flash of fear when he didn't see his Teris. Then he realized that his dad was not likely to let her just go straight back. He would have insisted she at least get breakfast and have her bruises looked over. He hurriedly pulled on his clothes and stumbled out to look for Teris and his dad.

He stopped at the landing and tried to understand what he was seeing. The entire bottom floor of his home was pure white. "What in the name of god?" he muttered.

"There you are," his dad greeted from the bottom of the steps. "You certainly slept late."

"Dad, what's going on?" he asked. "What's with all the white?"

"Your girlfriend was listening to all those tales you told her about our lives before," Connor told his son. "She was especially attentive when you mentioned missing snow. So she decided to give you a white Christmas. This is all just cotton and felt."

Patrick looked surprised for a moment before switching to suspicion. "You didn't make her leave yet, did you?" he demanded.

"Of course not," Connor promised him. "She's in the den looking at the tree."

Patrick dashed down the stairs and ducked around his dad to get into the den. Teris was kneeling before their tree trying to untangle two of the ornaments that had somehow become entwined with each other. Her brow was furrowed in thought and the sun light was hitting her in the most perfect way. Even with the purple bruise on her cheek Patrick thought she was beautiful. He moved to kneel next to her. She looked up at him with a smile as he reached out to brush her hair behind her ear. Patrick leaned in to brush a kiss to her mouth. "Thanks," he said pulling away.

"You're welcome," she replied.

She turned back to the ornaments while Patrick looked over the presents that had appeared under the tree. Connor watched the two with a smile before going to make them all a late breakfast.


End file.
